Some Things I Know
by wontquitmydayjob
Summary: Immediately after "The Three Days of the Hunter Job." Sophie is upset about the boyfriend. Nate says the right thing, for once.


_Just a one-shot, because it's Sunday and I was bored and stuff._

**Some Things I Know**

After several viewings of Monica Hunter's spectacular on-air meltdown, the others drifted home (Parker trailing Hardison and demanding to know if there was really an Area 52, and was that where "The Council" met, and was Eliot really a member?) but Sophie remained. Nate watched her for a few minutes. She was staring into a second glass of wine, so deep in thought that she didn't feel his gaze, and for Sophie, that was unusual.

He was worried about her. Of course, a break-up always hurt- that was pretty universal. And he was willing to bet that Sophie was not used to being the one who got dumped. That still didn't explain why she seemed to be taking it unusually hard- it was the kind of thing she would usually shrug off. She couldn't have been _that_ invested in the guy, they hadn't been dating that long, none of the team had even met him.

He moved from the kitchen to where she was sitting on the couch. She didn't even seem to notice him until he spoke.

"You want to stay for awhile?"

She startled, definitely out of character for someone who was usually so completely aware of all the people around her, and then looked around, as though noticing for the first time the others had gone.

She gave him a vague smile. "Sorry, headquarters also happens to be your home. I'll get out of your way."

"No, no," he said, pressing her shoulder gently as he passed, to make her resume her position on the sofa. "It wasn't a hint, just a question. I wouldn't mind the company, I'm not really inclined to go to bed just yet."

Actually, he was exhausted, but he'd rather find out what was wrong with her- he was beginning to wonder if it was something more than a break-up. He told himself he was just thinking about the team…they couldn't work without her.

She was leaning back against the arm of the couch, her legs stretched out across it. He came over, lifted up her feet, sat down, and replaced them on his lap. She didn't move away, and he was surprised.

"Y'know, Sophie, you can do better."

She gave him a sad little smile. "That's very sweet of you to say."

He shook his head. "I'm not just feeding you clichés Sophie, I mean it. If he doesn't know how lucky he was, then he doesn't deserve you."

She didn't answer immediately, and they were quiet for awhile. The way they were sitting, her feet in his lap, was innocent enough but also strangely intimate. It reminded him of those early days they knew each other, between all the running and the chasing, as she was slowly becoming his best friend. Back then it was safe, comfortable, because there was always something to stop them- his marriage, her life- they could never go too far. Now, nothing stood between them except themselves, and that was terrifying.

Sophie sighed a little, and he waited, knowing by the sound she was ready to say something. "He said…he didn't feel like he knew me…" she said finally.

Nate gave a low chuckle. "Well you're not easy to get to know."

She gave him a wry, slightly annoyed smile, and started to move away, swinging her feet off his lap. "Well thanks Nate, I'm glad we had this little talk..."

He really smiled then, laughed gently and caught her wrist, pulling her back. She fell back down next to him, and he didn't chance putting an arm around her, but rested it on the back of the couch. "Let me finish. You're not easy to get to know. You're not simple. You're confusing, and hell Sophie, you're infuriating. It took me years, and a lot of chasing…but it was worth every second."

Her eyes flickered to him. He took a chance and let his arm fall around her properly, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her upper arm. He wasn't sure, but she might have shifted just a little closer.

"What if he's right? Maybe no one knows me. Maybe all the years of playing someone else...what if no one knows who I really am?"

He turned his head slightly so that he was speaking almost into her hair. "I do."

"You do?" her voice was soft, vulnerable.

"Of course I do, Sophie."

She gave a harsh little laugh. "You know that's not even my real name."

He shrugged. "I know it's not the name your parents gave you, but I know it's the name you choose for yourself when you're not playing someone else." He held her there, next to him, because he could feel the tension in her. "I know you, Sophie. I know you love Paris more than anywhere in the world, but still think London is home. I know you drink only British tea, with milk. I know you'll drink cocktails, but prefer wine- white in summer, red in winter, except you always prefer champagne any time of year."

He could sense her lips curving into a little smile, even though she was looking down, and so went on.

"I know you talk in your sleep. I know you swear like a sailor, in fifteen different languages, when someone tries to wake you up early. I know your favorite color is gold, but you think you look best in red…"

She was still looking down, but brought her hand up to link through his fingers trailing over her arm.

"And while you're very, very good at hiding what you're thinking, I'm pretty good at reading you."

She snorted.

"For example, that expression right there is "_you're not nearly as smart as you think, you smug bastard_."

A little smile crept onto her face, suggesting that that was pretty close to what she'd been thinking.

"Lucky guess," she said, but she sounded a little more like herself, a little less uncertain.

"Besides," he went on. "Why would I want to know everything about you? That would be boring. I like being surprised by you. And this guy, if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life finding out about you, and being surprised by you, then he didn't deserve to."

There was a long pause where he felt like she was deciding, and then she tucked her legs up and leaned into him properly, warm against his side, and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Nate."

And because he knew her, and because he could read her (sometimes) he knew the conversation was over. He didn't want her to leave, so he reached for the remote control.

"Watch a movie?"

He could feel her hesitate again, and then felt her nod against his shoulder.

He knew tomorrow they would probably go back to normal, fighting and pushing each other's buttons and dancing around whatever they were actually trying to get to. For tonight, he was content to let her fall asleep on his shoulder watching a movie.


End file.
